


Problem Solved

by saliache



Series: Grand Porn Central [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, Femdom, Idril takes the reins, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Not Canon Compliant, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Orgasm Control, but only if you're Tuor, lots of aftercare, so idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saliache/pseuds/saliache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maeglin goes to confront Idril about her new lover. Things do not go as planned. At all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problem Solved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CollyWobbleKiwi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollyWobbleKiwi/gifts).



Maeglin wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. He’d imagined coming to Idril’s room, explaining his case, perhaps driving her untoward suitor off, perhaps being driven off himself - but not this. 

"Stop tugging," Idril murmured. "It’s hair, it’s short, it’s on his chest, and it is not particularly pleasant to be tugged on." 

Maeglin smoothed down the hair, suppressing a faint twinge of guilt. He was supposed to be resenting this man. 

"I-" 

"Shh," Idril cut him off. Beneath his hands Tuor chuckled. Maeglin swallowed down his resentment; she hadn’t told  _him_ to be silent. He reminded himself that he was lucky to be with her at all. “Yes, those are his nipples. They work exactly like you’d expect.” 

"Exactly?" he asked doubtfully, rolling one in his fingers experimentally. 

"Well, not exactly," Idril amended, leaning over and giving her Man a quick kiss. 

"They work quite well for me, lad." 

Really, Maeglin thought, how old was Tuor again? If anything, Maeglin should be calling _him_ lad. 

"He likes it when you run your hands down his front, you know," Idril purred in his ear. Feeling a bit like a trained dog, Maeglin complied. 

Tuor arched into his hands, groaning deeply. The Man’s breath quickened, Maeglin noted, and impressive muscles bunched and quivered under his hands. He repeated the gesture, and watched with a kind of lewd fascination as Tuor flushed deeply. A soft, warm pressure along the crease between Maeglin’s thigh and hip warned him that Tuor’s lap probably wasn’t the best place to sit right now. 

Idril’s eyes were shining as she guided Maeglin’s hands downward. Tuor’s… length felt hot and heavy in his hands, blood pulsing through thick veins along its surface. There was quite a lot of skin on it, all of it sensitive, he decided, since Tuor shivered and made very interesting noises when he poked at it. Idril’s least favorite hair ribbon was tied in a strangely innocuous bow at the base, like a gift ready for unwrapping. He slid his hands over it, feeling the difference between it and his own. 

"Yes," Idril murmured. "Keep doing that." Encouraged, Maeglin tugged harder. Tuor groaned, a muffled expletive under his breath, and his great muscled arms reached down and took over. Maeglin sat back, at a bit of a loss, before Idril put her hands over his and traced them down corded thighs. "You’re doing very well, Lómion." 

The sound of his mother-name was enough to make him shudder, blood pooling in his belly and between her legs. He chanced a look at her, afraid of her censure, but she only smiled that sweet smile of hers and gestured for him to continue. 

Tuor had more hair on his body than almost everyone Maeglin had seen, khazad included. Dark golden hair curled thickly over his shins, thick and bristly and sensitive to the touch. The Man had legs to match his frame, broad and sturdy, and wide feet to support it all. Maeglin traced his hand along one of the callused pads on his soles, and Tuor retracted his feet with a grunt. 

Maeglin retreated, covering himself half out of a misplaced sense of modesty and half because being aroused with Tuor in the room was  _nothing at all_ like his fantasies. 

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Idril said gently, her arms reaching out and gently pulled him back in. She exchanged a look with Tuor. "You have wanted this for a long time, and you still do, do you not?" 

He was surprised to realize that he still did, Tuor or not, and nodded. Idril nodded in reply, and drew him down between her legs. Tuor wiggled out from under them. 

"You have wanted this, to pleasure me, and to use Tuor as you see fit. So be it." 

"Maybe not the last part-" he began, before something wet and  _very_ warm wrapped itself around his cock and - were those teeth? - and that was definitely tongue. “Elbereth,” he breathed, burying his face in Idril’s thigh and trying to maintain composure. “ _Elbereth_.” 

Tuor’s chuckle did very interesting things and he decided the Man could laugh however he wanted if it meant he did  _that_ again. 

"Shh, Lómion," Idril murmured, tugging his head down. "Use your tongue - no, not there, higher -  _yessss.”_

Maeglin licked harder, feeling Idril flush and harden in her own way. 

It took a bit of experimentation, but he settled into a rhythm, sliding in and out of Tuor’s mouth and working Idril with all his might. 

Tuor did something with his tongue, and Maeglin came with a cry, thrusting desperately, hands digging into Idril’s hips. Pleasure slid along his spine, curled in the base of his skull and in his stomach, tingled along his limbs in a way that never happened when he was alone, and when the world slotted back into place he realized he had half collapsed onto the both of them. 

"That… that…" he gasped, Idril’s arousal thick and salty on his tongue, drying stickily on his lips and over his face, "That…" 

"We should continue," Tuor said gently, and made to tuck him into an unused corner of the bed. 

"No," he protested. "Not… not without me." 

Tuor gave him an incredulous look. 

"So be it," Idril ruled. 

Maeglin decided he had to figure out what their secret looks meant, because they chose to look him over in a way that both made him nervous and fired up his blood again. 

"Ai, we’ve no rope," Tuor lamented, tugging Maeglin’s arms behind his back. 

"His braids will suffice," Idril responded, sliding them over his shoulders. 

Now was definitely the time to be having second thoughts, but Maeglin was more curious than afraid. Tuor looped his braids around his wrist, pulling them tight and tugging his head back. “Long enough, if just barely,” he reported. 

Maeglin tried to loosen his hands, but they were tied quite securely. Sparing a thought to mourn for the kinks in his hair he was sure to find in the morning, he leaned forward until he could see Idril’s face again. She looked as foreboding as she had when he’d first barged into her room, but there was a softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. 

"Ai, you have asked for this, time and time again," she near-whispered in his ear, and kissed him square on the mouth as her hands stroked him into arousal again. 

"Relax," Tuor said, sliding greasy hands down Maeglin’s back and over his hips and -  _fingers were not supposed to go there._ "Relax." 

"You will take me as a woman?" Maeglin hissed, trying to slide himself off Tuor’s hand and only managing to foul himself up in his hair even worse. 

Idril steadied him. “He will,” she said, and that was it. 

Tuor took him first, cock sliding in with surprising ease, Idril’s hair ribbon rubbing over sensitized skin and stretched muscle with every motion. Idril waited until they had settled into a rhythm of sorts, grinding up and down on each other, before taking Maeglin into her mouth. 

Elbereth, this was so much better than the last time he’d tried to pleasure himself with Idril’s ribbons. Although, he mused, seeing it on Tuor was much different from remembering its shine in Idril’s hair, and he felt weirdly stretched all out of proportion to Tuor’s girth. It was probably the hair ribbon, he decided. 

He came again, yanking painfully on his scalp, arms tugging uselessly at their bonds, Tuor holding him into the rhythm they’d set up. Idril smiled at him, a more triumphant and less kind smile, he thought, and changed position.

They continued. 

By the fourth orgasm he didn’t care anymore. Idril was a great and wonderful presence, all warm hands and commanding voice, and Tuor… Tuor was excitement and pressure and the type of friction that set his pulse racing and set his body to tingling, damn him. 

He came with a start, spilling all over himself again, and collapsed into the Man’s arms, panting. 

"I… I cannot continue," he admitted, closing his eyes. The world seemed so distant compared to the two on the bed with him. 

Idril’s fingers stroked him, and to his surprise he found himself rising again. 

"I.. cannot," he gasped as she slid her mouth around him. "Idril… cousin…  _please._ " 

Neither Idril nor her Man listened, and again he shuddered, spilling over Idril’s beautiful, brilliant face. It seemed a shame to see her like that, but when she slid her fingers over his aching cock again he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

"No, I think that is quite enough for the Lord Maeglin tonight, don’t you think?" 

Tuor agreed, his deep voice rumbling through Maeglin’s body

He felt… sated. Tired, and still tingling with the aftermath, and a bit sore from being used so long. Idril knelt in front of him, and Tuor was a comforting warmth behind. 

Tuor carefully slid out of him. A small part of Maeglin’s mind was surprised the man had still not spent, but Tuor only grinned un-self-consciously at him and untied Idril’s ribbon. So that was how he did it. 

Idril carefully undid Maeglin’s bonds, and patted his braids into something resembling neatness. 

He protested when Tuor shifted from behind him, but the man only reached out and poured a cup of water from the pitcher beside Idril’s bed. 

"Drink," he said, holding the cup to Maeglin’s lips. "You’ll be thirsty." 

He drank that cup and the next, before Idril commandeered the pitcher and a towel, cleaning the half-congealed mess of come and sweat cooling on his body. 

"It’s dried into your hair, I’m afraid," she said, holding up a clumped lock. "You’ll have to brush it out in the morning." 

"Later," Tuor said, pulling back a curtain to reveal golden sunlight. "It is almost noon." 

Maeglin groaned. “I was supposed to be… out… mining, at dawn!” 

"Would this have anything to do with your excursions into the mountains?" Tuor asked. 

"You know about that?" he cried, trying to push himself up. Tuor tucked the blankets back around him. 

"Did you think we didn’t?" Idril scolded. "We didn’t want to tell Father, because he would be upset, and he has enough to be upset about." 

Maeglin felt very small for a moment. “Wait. How did you know?” 

Tuor coughed in embarrassment. 

"Because we saw you, of course," Idril said. 

“ _You_ were also outside the vale?” 

"We’ve been building a secret escape route out of the city ever since Turgon chose to stay," Tuor explained. 

"But you will support us, won’t you?" Idril asked, brushing stray hair off Maeglin’s forehead in a way that reminded him greatly of his mother. "Tell Turgon that it’s time to go." 

And Maeglin thought about it, and said, “I will.” 


End file.
